The Infatuation
by adromir
Summary: Someone from Sam's past suddenly appears, only to disclose a well-kept secret that might cost him his very life.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, everybody. I'm real glad that you guys still want to read my fics even though they are badly infested with typos and horrible tenses and grammars. Obviously, English is not my first language, hence the annoying mistakes, I know. Sorry for that. I lost a beta reader quite a while ago, and now I fully rely on the readers to point out the errors that I've made. Thank you very much for being good teachers, and I appreciate the guidance and tips you've given me. Writing fanfics is part of my learning process, and I will keep on writing to improve my craft.**

**Okay, now on to the story. Another Sam-centric this time, with maybe some Sam-whumps (_Maybe_? What am I talking about? It's _definitely_ a Sam-whump! LOL!). However, I need to warn you all beforehand. This fic deals with one particular issue that is still controversial in most countries, including mine. I don't want to spoil anything much, so go on and find out. If it's not to your liking, just stop reading and wait for my other simpler fics.**

**Happy reading!**

**I hope. ;)  
**

**Summary : Someone from Sam's past suddenly appears, only to disclose a well-kept secret that might cost him his very life.**

* * *

"It's not mine!" The skinny and scruffy looking man kept shrieking as they dragged him out of the convenience store, which he had attempted to rob just minutes earlier. "You gotta believe me, dude!"

"_Dude_, seriously? The gun is not yours?" Sam halfheartedly asked, tightening his grip on the subject's arms which were cuffed at the wrists behind his back.

"It's not mine, I swear it!"

Flanking the subject's other side, Spike chuckled. "Then how come you were holding it when we burst in just now?"

The subject shrugged. He gave the two SRU officers a glazed look between half-lidded eyes. "I don't know, dude. I think I blacked out. I can't tell you how the gun got there. I just dropped in to buy me some smokes and then suddenly everyone was yelling and my face was shoved to the floor and you guys were frisking me and—"

"Yeah, yeah, we hear you. Buddy, you're too stoned to even remember your own name," said Spike, already tired of listening to the man's aggravating whining. He pulled open the back door of a waiting patrol car. "Now get in."

"But the gun is not mine!" The subject shoved one foot against the side of the car, fighting will all his worth—or rather, worthless—not to be taken into custody.

Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation. Muttering under his breath, he placed two fingertips against the subject's neck and pressed hard. The subject yelled in anguish and dropped to the ground, squirming like a fish out of water.

"This is police brutality!" he screamed. "I'm gonna sue!"

Grabbing the man's arms and legs, the two SRU officers lifted him off the ground and dumped him into the back seat.

"I'm gonna sue, you hear me?" The subject still wouldn't desist yelling and screaming, and that started to grate on Sam's nerves.

"Fine! Whatever," he snapped back. "And you will be charged with armed robbery—"

"But it's just a water gun!"

Spike gave the man a droll look. "So you admit, you used a water gun to rob the store?"

The subject blinked. "What? You mean I should have used a real gun?"

"Aw, shut up," Sam growled, slamming the door closed.

Spike chuckled as they watched the patrol car drive away with the perp. "Hey, boss. Did you catch all that?"

"Loud and clear." Sergeant Parker's voice sounded amused in their headsets. "Good job, guys. One more scumbag off the streets."

"One pathetic moronic scumbag you mean," said Sam, still feeling highly annoyed. "A _water_ gun? I could have shot him in the head, the idiot!"

"But you didn't, Sam," the Sergeant reassured him. "Good call, good takedown, both of you. The patrol is over, so let's all head back to the Barn."

"Copy that," they replied, echoed by the rest of Team One who did their patrol several blocks over.

"Unbelievable. I could have killed that guy for waving a water gun. What a dumbass," Sam groused as he and Spike walked towards their SUV which was parked at the curb in front of the beauty parlor next door.

Laughing, Spike patted his teammate in the back. "I know the feeling, buddy. Don't worry about it. Now how about if we make a brief stop so that we can get you some ice-cream to cool you down, huh?"

Sam grinned back. "Baskin-Robbins?"

"How about Magnum?"

"My kind of brand, just like my favorite gun. You're buying?"

"Yep, you're paying."

"With _your_ cash, you mean."

Before Spike could respond to that, someone suddenly called out, "Hey, Braddock!"

In the act of opening the car door, Sam whirled around to search for the source of the voice. He came to a standstill when he saw a tall muscular red-haired man stood smiling at him from ten yards away.

"Big-T!" Pleasantly surprised, Sam's face broke into grins as he went over to embrace him. The man Sam had called Big-T hugged him in return, almost crushing the slighter man in his massive arms.

Sam laughed. "Hey, ease up, big guy. My ribs are not as strong as they used to."

Also laughing, the man released him. "Let me look at you, Sam. My, my. Aren't you dashing in that uniform. You always look good in black. What a sight for sore eyes."

"And _you_," Sam said, giving the man's six-foot-three frame a quick once-over, "look bigger than ever. What have you been feeding yourself, man? Steroids?"

"Just pure red meat and lots and lots of egg yoghurt every morning."

Sam made a face. "Egg yoghurt? After all these years, you're still eating that crap?"

"It's good. You need to try it."

"No, thanks. I've tried it before and couldn't stop barfing for a week!" Smiling, Sam said, "It's real good to see you again, T."

"Same here, Braddock."

"So, when did you get back? You're between tours, or are you home for good?"

"For good. I've been back for over two months now. My Dad died."

Sam turned sober. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be," Big-T responded, didn't seem all that sad. "He and I didn't really get along, but the bastard left his bar to me in his will. I'm a businessman now, can you believe it?"

"_You_, running a bar?" Sam couldn't help but chuckle. "You're gonna drink your own business dry."

"Hopefully not because the bar hasn't even reopen yet, not until next week," said Big-T with a loud guffaw. "Hey, how about we get together, have a drink and talk about old times?"

"Yeah, sure. I'd love that."

"Is tonight okay? If you're not on shift, I mean."

"I think I can make it. I'll be off duty in another couple hours."

"Great. We can meet up at my bar. Here's the address." Big-T gave Sam his calling card. "It's just at the end of the block. I saw the ruckus here and came to check what's going on. Didn't imagine that I would stumble into you."

"Me neither." Sam was shaking his head. His voice was quiet when he asked next, "Big-T, where have you been all this while? Why didn't you ever contact me?"

"Later. I'll tell you everything." Big-T patted Sam on the shoulder. He looked up and noticed the other SRU officer who stood watching their reunion with avid interest. "Sam, aren't you going to introduce me to your colleague over there?"

"Oh, right! Sorry." Beckoning his teammate over, Sam made the introductions. "Spike, this is Tim McCarthy. He's from my old unit when I was in Kandahar. We all call him Big-T. It's plain obvious why."

"It sure does," replied Spike, warily eyeing the other man's massive build as they shook hands. "Michaelangelo Scarlatti. Spike for short."

Big-T nodded approvingly. "The nickname suits you."

"_Your_ nickname suits you. It's nice meeting you, sir."

"Likewise, Spike." Turning back to Sam, Big-T said, "Okay. Don't forget about tonight."

"I won't," said Sam, giving his friend another hug.

He and Spike then returned to their vehicle. As he started the engine, Sam noticed the telling look that Spike was aiming at him. "What?"

"_Big_-T?"

"Well, you saw his size." Sam grinned, steering the SUV off the curb and into the lane. "I remember someone calling him _Little Timmy_, but it didn't stick. Heck, even the man who called him that mysteriously didn't stick around for long."

"So, he's an old army buddy of yours?"

"Yeah. I met him when I started my first tour in Afghanistan. I was this newbie and he was this two-year vet. Instead of hazing me like everybody else, he showed me the rope and taught me everything about sands and hajis and all that jazz. Most often than not, he became my spotter whenever I had to make a long-distance shot."

"He looks like an interesting guy."

"You have no idea." Sam laughed out loud.

"How long have you not seen each other?"

"Almost ten years. I don't know what exactly happened, but before my first tour ended, Big-T suddenly moved out of base. They said he had been transferred."

"Transferred all of a sudden? Is that common in the military?"

"It's not really common, but it happens." Sam was frowning. "I never found out the actual reason. From the rumors I heard, Big-T was re-stationed in Sudan, under the UNMIS."

Spike raised his eyebrows. "SAFARI?"

Sam nodded. "That's what I heard. Different soil, but nearly similar hell."

"Haven't you tried to contact him?"

"I did try, but he never contacted me back." Sam looked thoughtful for a few moments before he added, "I missed him, you know. Besides Matt, he used to be my closest mate. I owe Big-T a lot, and not just for guiding me and everything. He's a real protector. He saved my life, twice."

"How that happened?"

"Once, he yanked me out of the path of a crumbling wall of an ancient building in Kabul. I would have been crushed to death under the rubble if not for him. The second time, he carried me on his back for three kilometers across the hot desert sand to get me to safety after I got shot."

Spike eyes widened in surprised. "You've been shot before? I didn't know that."

"Yeah, I've been shot before in the field."

"But I've never seen any bullet scar on you."

Sam squirmed. "That's because I was hit in a certain part of my body you rarely see."

Blinking, Spike gave his friend a cursory gaze before he broke into grins. "Man, you got hit in your ass?"

Sam's face reddened. "Spike…"

"Seriously, in your ass? Holy shit!"

Rolling his eyes at his friend's whooping laughter, Sam explained, "Hey, it still hurt, alright? And it bled like freaking faucet. Anyway, I didn't exactly get hit in the ass. It was my left hip, just a few inches above the cheek—"

"The technical term is still _ass_, you dummy."

"It is not. It wasn't _in_ the ass. It was...Wait a second. Why the heck are we arguing about my ass anyway?"

"You started it!"

"No, _you_ did. Now stop mentioning my ass!"

But Spike was enjoying it too much to easily drop the matter. "I bet Jules has seen it."

"Yeah, Spike. I've seen it," Jules' clear voice suddenly blared in their headset. "And it's not _that_ impressive."

Only then Sam realized that the entire Team One was still connected to one another via the com link. He gasped out loud, which only caused Spike to sputter into laughter all over again. In the background, Sam thought he could hear the muffled sniggers from Ed and Parker and Leah.

His face reddening, Sam tentatively said, "Um, Jules? Honey?"

"Yes, Sammy dear?"

"I'm gonna turn my radio off now." And he did exactly that.

After a full minute, when Spike still couldn't stop laughing, Sam reached over and smacked him in the arm. "Stop it!"

Grinning, Spike grabbed his aching ribs. "Not impressive, huh? I wonder what she exactly meant. The bullet scar or…"

"Don't even go there, Scarlatti. Shut up or I will shove you out of this moving vehicle."

Spike quickly raised his arms in surrender. "Okay, buddy. No more jokes about your ass. I swear."

"Good," Sam growled, albeit sulkily. "You know, you owe me _two_ ice-creams for this."

"Heck, for getting shot in the ass, you deserve a truck-load of ice-creams!"

Sam groaned out loud amidst Spike's booming laughter.

_Great. I will never hear the end of this._

* * *

By the time Team One's shift ended several hours afterwards, the day had already turned dark. As everyone else got ready to head for home, Sam and Jules stood outside the locker room, talking.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Sam asked her for the umpteenth time.

She reached up and patted his jaw. "I'm sure, sweetheart. No problem. Go and have drinks with your long-lost friend. I'll be fine. I plan to take a bubble bath, have a glass of wine, read a paperback novel…"

Sam gave her a lascivious smile. "Or maybe I should drive you home first, join you in the bubble bath, and _then_ go meet my friend."

"No way, cowboy. I don't share my bubble bath with anyone. Look, I can catch a ride with Spike. Don't worry a thing, okay? Just go and have fun."

"Thanks. I'll be back before eleven."

"Take all the time you need. But remember, we have early shift tomorrow, so try not to get drunk."

Sam chuckled. "I won't, but Big-T might. He's a real drinker."

Shaking her head with a smile, Jules hugged him and whispered in his ear, "For the record, I really like your impressive ass!"

Sam felt his cheeks burned. "How long am I going to hear this joke?"

"Um…forever?"

Laughing, she released him and went to join Spike at Winnie's station. Sending them all a jaunty wave, Sam then headed out towards the parking lot. Within minutes, he was on the road.

A short time later, thanks to light traffic, he reached the address that Big-T had given him. After parking his car in the alley next to the building, Sam approached the door and knocked on the glass panel. Big-T himself answered it and let him in.

"I'm glad you made it," said the big man, closing the door. "How was work?"

"Great. We take scumbags off the street, negotiate with hostage takers. Never a dull moment being an SRU officer."

"But not as exciting as being a military sniper, right?"

"I left the field a long time ago, Big-T. This is my life now."

Big-T nodded his understanding. "Here, let me take your jacket."

"Sure, thanks." As his friend helped him with his jacket, Sam looked around him and whistled. "Wow. This is a nice watering hole. I've never been here before. You father left you all this?"

Big-T returned after hanging Sam's jacket on a coat stand behind the door. "Yep. All the booze, the stools, the tables, the polished teak bar…and a long list of creditors asking for overdue payments."

Sam winced. "Ouch."

"Yeah, don't I know it. But I can handle it fine. It gives me something to do, keeps me busy. I'll be a lot busier next week when we reopen," the other man explained. "Come on, I'll show you around."

Over the next half hour, Big-T gave Sam a guided tour of his premise. Their conversation then meandered towards the latest news of other comrades or previous commanding officers, until they ended up in the manager's office where the bar owner quickly ushered his guest into a seat on a leather couch.

"Is scotch okay?" asked Big-T as he went to the minibar.

Sam shrugged. "It's fine."

After retrieving two shot glasses, Big-T lifted a decanter and poured a finger each. He passed a glass of single malt scotch to Sam before sitting next to him on the couch.

"To friendship," the both chorused and bumped their glasses together before gulping the drink down.

Sam's eyes watered from the nasty taste of the liquor. It had been a while since he had last taken whisky. To get over the burning effect, he immediately struck up a conversation, "So, how have you been, T? I haven't heard from you for a long time."

Putting down his empty glass on the table in front of them, Big-T replied, "I've been here and there, soldiering and serving my country. How about you? When did you leave the field?"

"Over five years ago, after…after Matt died in a friendly fire." Sam's voice was grim when saying this. As Big-T sat quietly, Sam gave him the details about how he had shot dead his own best friend from two kilometers away.

"It was unbearable. The guilt, the pain, the loss. I thought I would go crazy," said Sam at the end of it, and leaned backwards to rest his head against the back of the couch.

"I can understand that, Sammy. That must be hard for you. I remember, you were real tight with him." The other man nodded, giving Sam's knee consoling pats.

"Sure, it was hard. But I got through it, slowly, one day at a time. When I first joined SRU, I was a big mess. But my team was great to me, still does. They pulled me from the brink and I started to feel whole again. If not for them, I…I wouldn't even be here. Could have been dumped inside a city morgue somewhere, dying a wasted death."

"You're not that kind of man, Sam. "

"What makes you so sure?"

"I know you. You don't give up so easily. For a small man, you have a big strong will."

Sam broke into laughter. "To you, everyone is small, big guy."

"Well, it's true, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is." Sam reluctantly agreed. "Okay, I'm asking you again, why haven't you contacted me?"

Big-T looked down at his feet for a moment. "I had my reasons."

Sam rolled his head against the leather headrest to look intently at him. "What do you mean? What really happened, T? Can't you tell me?"

"It's better that you don't know."

"Why is that?" Sam frowned. "Did it have anything to do with me? Did I screw up something? Shit, it's about our last assignment together, right? I screwed that one up big time, and as my spotter you took the blame."

"No, no, it's not that."

"So then what? Talk to me, T."

Sighing, Big-T leaned back. "Truly, none of it was your fault."

"Sure, but then why did you leave all of a sudden without even saying goodbyes and stay the hell away? Damn it, T, I've missed you so much!"

"I missed you too, buddy," the other man softly said, turning his head to absorb Sam's agonized gaze. In that space of a second, something flashed in his friend's eyes. Sam didn't quite understand what it meant until Big-T leaned forward and kissed him in the lips.

For a full heartbeat, Sam could only sit as still as a statue, so stunned that he was. And then he pulled backward and stared in bewilderment. "_T_?"

Big-T emitted a sad smile. "You have no idea, haven't you?"

"What are you saying?" Sam was still staring, having troubles to believe what just occurred.

"That I love you."

Sam blinked, speechless. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't seem to find the right words to say.

Big-T gazed at Sam some more, and then just leapt bodily on top of him, crushing their lips together. Sam instinctively reacted, shoving and jabbing as he struggled to get out from under the man's weight. He could smell the booze on Big-T's breath, realizing that his friend was already deep in his cups even before Sam had arrived.

Kicking hard, Sam managed to throw the heavier man off him and propelled himself to his feet. "T! What the fuck?"

Licking his lips, Big-T also stood. "I'm not sorry that I kissed you, Sam. I'm just sorry that you had to find out this way. I should have told you before. I'm in love with you."

Keeping the low table between them, Sam panted for breath as he eyed the other man warily. "Big-T, you don't know what you're saying."

"I'm in love with you, god damn it!" Big-T shouted, "I've loved you since the first time I laid eyes on you."

Raising his arms in a placating manner, Sam attempted to speak some reasons into his friend. "Look, I appreciate the feelings. I love you too, but not in the same way you feel for me. You're my friend, T. It can't be more than that."

"What I feel for you is a lot stronger, Sam. When I saw you today, after all these years, I realized I never got over you. I want you to know it."

"T, I understand."

"Do you, really?"

"Yes, I do."

"So, can't we just sit back down and talk more about it?"

"Big-T, listen. This can't go any further than you wish it to be, okay? I have someone in my life, and she's very important to me. Besides, I don't go both ways. I want you to respect that."

"I've been keeping my feelings for you for so long, Sam," Big-T implored and rounded the table, causing Sam to quickly back away. "What, I disgust you, now you know that I'm gay?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't have problems with you being gay, T! It's you pouncing on me that I don't agree with."

Sam was speaking the exact truth. It was not Big-T's sexual tendencies which bothered him at all. In fact, during his tours in the field, Sam had known several men in the base who were gays. Homosexuality was seriously frowned upon in the military, but the guys managed to keep it tightly concealed between them. Due to Sam's head-turning good looks, they had even made some passes at him, but then good-naturedly backed away when Sam had told them he was more of a ladies-man.

Only he had no idea that Big-T had been secretly routing for him too.

"Yeah," Big-T was saying. "It was me pouncing on you which caused us both to be separated in the first place."

"What do you mean?"

"Remember our last assignment, the one where you shot that kid?"

Sam nodded, knowing which assignment Big-T was talking about. Well, how could he forget? Apart from shooting Matt, that was the shot that he wished he could take back.

"No one blames you for killing that kid, Sam. He was carrying Semtex wrapped around his body and was about to blow up a convoy of NATOs."

Sam didn't fully agree. "The boy was only eight. I didn't need to shoot him in the head. I should just maim him, not shoot him dead."

"You had no choice, Sam. It's either him or twenty other lives. You did the right thing," Big-T said. "But you were so overwrought later that night that you drank the entire bottle of my best Laphroaig. You got stone-cold drunk, remember that?"

"No, but I remember the dreadful hangover I had the next day." Sam shrugged. "Where are you going with this?"

"You passed out, shivering in your own cold sweat. I stripped you down and tucked you into bed," Big-T continued. "I watched you sleep. You looked so vulnerable, that I couldn't help myself. I climbed into bed with you."

Sam gaped, his face turning pale. "What?"

"That was when Matt walked in. Your best buddy saw me kissing you, and he went completely berserk."

"_Matt_?" Sam took another step back. "Matt knew?"

"Of course, he knew!" Big-T shouted. "He punched me square in the face and then we fought like crazy, but you were so out of it to even notice it. Despite himself, Matt was able to kick me out and made me swear to stay away from you. Things didn't end there, however. The very next day, I received my twenty-four hour notice to leave for Darfur. Matt had gotten a word to General Braddock somehow, and your Dad wasted no time in pulling every string he had to speed up my transfer."

Sam felt himself reeling. His own father also had a hand in this?

His head shaking, Sam muttered, "No one ever told me about any of this. Not Matt, not my Dad."

"I can't blame them. They were just looking out for you. I would do the same too. It was my own fault that we were torn apart."

For a while, Sam seemed to be at a lost. He stared at his friend, his face a mixture of disbelief and hurt. "You…you took advantage of me while I was out, while I was unable to defend myself?"

"That's my only regret, Sam. I admit, I should have handled everything with more finesse. I was being too forward."

Sam didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He scoffed without humor and shook his head again. "Um…this is overwhelming. I need some space to think."

"Sam, let's talk on this."

"We already talked, T! I have nothing more to say."

"But, Sam…"

"I think I should go," Sam said, turning to leave.

"No, don't go!" Big-T made a grab for Sam, but Sam angrily shook him off and almost ran towards the door.

Without thinking, Big-T grabbed the decanter full of scotch from the mini bar and slammed it against the back of Sam's head. Sam dropped hard onto floor with a grunt, his world exploded in pain.

"You cannot leave until I say so!" Big-T was screaming down at him. "You must listen to what I have to say, you hear me?"

Dazed and hurt, Sam could do nothing but stared back uncomprehendingly at the man he always called friend. "T…?"

And then everything just faded into nothingness.

**TBC...**

* * *

**Ooookay. Stop now, or should I continue and give Sam more angst? **

**Maybe I'll come back next year. Ha ha ha...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for still reading! I decided not to come back next year after all. LOL!**

**Here's a new chapter.**

* * *

Jules had been skimming the same page for nearly half an hour. Instead of concentrating on the story line of the paperback novel in her lap, she would frequently glance at the clock on the wall. The time now was 12.05 a.m., already past midnight. And still Sam had not come home.

_Where the hell is he?_

At first she wasn't overly concerned. Sam was a big boy, a tough guy. He could take care of himself. Besides, he was only seeing a friend. Nothing bad would happen, right? But as time crept by, without even a call from him, Jules began to have doubts.

Sam was stickler to promises. If he said he would return before 11.00, that was precisely what he would do. Furthermore, their shift would start at 7.00 in the morning. As Team One needed to be at the Barn by 5.00 for the workout, they usually went to bed as early as 10.30 the night before to ensure that they all had good enough rest. Lack of sleep not only made everyone cranky as hell but it could also be dangerous, for it had negative influence on one's judgment and perception. A wrong decision made, any errors in calculation, could cost someone else's live. Sam knew this, and so he never stayed up late every time he had an early shift the next day, although he was used to going without sleep for forty-eight hours straight during his stint in Afghanistan.

That was then, this was now. Sam should have been home hours ago, unless he had been drinking himself silly that he was so deeply inebriated he couldn't even spell his own name. He was meeting his friend in a bar, after all.

Shaking her head, Jules put down the book and went to retrieve her cell phone. She hit the speed-dial for Sam's number and listened to the ringing tone on the other end. It kept ringing for almost half a minute until the call was dumped into his voicemail. On her second attempt, the same thing happened. No answer. So was the third. And the fourth. By the fifth time, Jules was ready to scream.

"Braddock, you're in deep shit," she muttered in annoyance, tossing her phone onto the bed. Shutting out the lights, she got under the covers and quickly drifted off.

No point in _both_ of them losing their sleep.

* * *

The familiar buzzing sound of a cellphone dragged Sam back to consciousness. He knew instantly that it was his own phone. He tried to reach for it, only to realize that he couldn't move. He fluttered his eyes open and found himself in a windowless room, which looked more like a basement. A set of wooden stairs hugged the left wall towards the floor above.

Blinking rapidly to adjust his sight against the glaring light of a naked bulb hanging from the ceiling, Sam groaned from the pain throbbing at the base of his skull.

"You're awake."

Startled by the voice, Sam feebly rolled his head to one side and saw Big-T. His friend was sitting in a chair, staring back at him.

"T?" Sam attempted to rise but his movements were entirely restricted. He was lying in a narrow cot, his wrists and ankles secured to each corner with duct tape. Dismayed, he gazed imploringly at Big-T.

"T, buddy, you gotta untie me."

The other man had the grace to look away in shame. "I'm sorry, I can't."

"Why are you doing this?"

"I had to, Sam. You got to listen to what I have to say."

"Okay, I will listen. But you don't need to tie me up."

"You were running away, Sam! You ran from me when I tried to explained things. I wasn't given a chance to make you understand my feelings for you."

"T, I understand—"

"No, you don't!" Big-T shouted, and then repeated in a much softer voice, "No, you don't, Sam."

"Yes, I do. I'm your friend, T. I know you."

"You don't know me at all, Braddock. You had no idea that I'm in love with you so you don't know shit!"

Sam's phone buzzed once more. Big-T was actually holding it in his hand. His lips pursing, he glanced down at the caller ID. "Jules again. Who is she, Sam? That your sweetheart?"

Swallowing hard, Sam chose not to reply. If Big-T became too overwrought, he might go after her. And so Sam kept his silence and worked his brain fast to find the best words to make his friend see reasons.

"Is she or is she not the girl that you said is so important to you?" When he received no answer, Big-T hurled the cellphone against the wall, breaking it into pieces.

"T, please listen—"

"No, _you_ listen!" Big-T roared, wagging a finger in Sam's face. "I'm tired of listening to you saying that you understand me when in truth you are disgusted by me."

"You got it wrong. There's no disgust, not in the least. You're my friend. I owe you my life, T. I would never—"

"Shut up! Shut up!" Screaming, the big man covered his ears and leapt off his seat. "Stop talking, you bastard! It's my turn to speak so shut the fuck up!"

"Buddy, calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Looking extremely distraught, Big-T pushed his hand into the pocket of his jacket and took out a roll of duct tape.

"No." Sam grew alarm, knowing what his friend intended to do. "No, don't!"

Ignoring his friend's pleas, Big-T pressed the duct tape over Sam's mouth and wrapped a length of it around his head, completely muffling him.

Looking satisfied, Big-T sat back down and glared at his captive. "It's your fault, you know. You gave me no choice but to gag you."

"Please stop this," Sam tried to say, but was only able to come up with indecipherable noises.

"Be quiet!" snapped Big-T, smacking Sam in the forehead. "Just lie there and be a good boy. Daddy is about to tell you a story."

Panting, his chest rising up and down, Sam stared at the other man with growing dread. Big-T's behavior started to look a bit off, close to lunacy. The big man could be severely intoxicated, considering the amount of drinks he had imbibed that night. But there was also something else, certain telling signs that Sam had noticed when dealing with subjects suffering from mental disorder.

_Is it PTSD? Or could it be schizophrenia? _

Sam couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly, not with him totally mute and unable to ask the right questions. For now, all he could do was go through with the ordeal, hoping that Big-T would calm down and release him in the end.

"Once upon time, in a faraway land, a warrior stands on top of a sand dune. He gazes into the enemy camp, about ready to attack. And then out of nowhere a young warrior comes to stand in front of him, blocking his view," Big-T was saying in a sing-song voice, as if reciting the lines from a book of faerie-tales. "This young warrior wears no helmet, his shiny golden head a burning beacon under the bright sun for the enemies to see. The warrior is so pissed he tackles the younger man to the ground. But when the young man turns to face him, the warrior is struck speechless. He has never seen a sight so beautiful in his life."

It was incredibly awkward to hear Big-T give his own version on how they both had first met. The expression on Big-T's face was filled with rapture, as if living the moment.

"Instead of beating the crap out of the young man for being so fucking stupid, the older one decides to take him under his wing and show him how to be a true warrior of the desert. He guides the young man, nurtures him, covers his back, and shadows him everywhere he goes. It's like guarding the most precious stone of the earth, like a rough-cut rock that would turn into diamond. A yellow diamond, the most rare of all." Big-T stroke Sam's cheek, softly saying, "That's what you are to me. You're so special and exquisite, you took my breath away every time I look at you."

Sam resisted the urge to squirm in discomfort. Big-T had already accused him of feeling disgust, so he must control himself from showing anything that could make the big guy think it that way. Keeping his breathing steady, Sam closed his eyes and endured the other man's touch in silence.

"You said you owe me for saving your life," Big-T continued to say. "Yes, indeed. You owe me, Sam. That time, after you got shot, I carried you the whole day on my back across the baking sand to get you medical treatments, you remember that? You were close to dying, your blood soaking my fatigues and drying into flakes on my skin. I tried to staunch the bleeding but the wound was too deep. Where was it, anyway? In your left hip, right?"

Sam's eyes flew open when he felt Big-T's rough hands on the fly of his jeans, unsnapping the button. Growling his protests, he struggled against his bonds.

"Cease moving!" the big man snapped. He yanked down the waistband of Sam's jeans and underwear until the bullet scar was exposed. "Ah, there it is. An everlasting reminder of the harrowing experience we both shared that day. Remember it, Sammy? Our entire squad was gone. You dying, me faltering under your weight for hours. I thought we wouldn't make it, but somehow we did. It was a miracle when the rescue chopper finally arrived and swept us both into the air. A big miracle."

Sam couldn't help but trembled when Big-T gave the scar a loving caress. Unable to defend himself, Sam stared straight at the ceiling, willing himself to be somewhere else entirely and not where he was, a captive to a clearly disturbed man. He imagined himself in Jules' arms as she sang him to sleep in her sweet voice, as she—

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Yelling, Big-T grabbed Sam's chin. "You can't bear to look at me anymore, huh? I disgust you that much?"

Sam hastily shook his head, causing Big-T to smile and said, "Those eyes. Those blue, blue eyes are your best features. Your most valuable assets. They enable you to aim your target. They help you hit your mark without fail. You're one of the best snipers I've ever had the honor to serve with. I've always admired your skill and determination. But most of all, I admire your courage. When you rushed into that old building to save that woman, I thought you had lost your mind. The walls were falling down all around you, and yet you brushed them off as if they were snowflakes. You emerged between the rising dust, carrying that woman in your arms like a comic book hero, totally unaware that another section of the wall was crumbling. I yanked you out just in time before you could turn into pancake, you remember that?"

Sam nodded, his breath hitching with emotions.

_My god. How long will this go on?_

"I protected you, saved you, and would gladly die for you," Big-T declared. "Wanna know why I did all that? Huh, Sammy? Wanna know why?"

When Sam didn't respond, the man shouted, "I asked you, do you wanna know why?!"

Hurriedly, Sam nodded again.

"Because I love you." Big-T's voice had softened. "I did everything, _any_thing, to show you how terribly I care about you. And you couldn't even tell? How ignorant you were, Sam. Totally oblivious. For someone so smart, you can be awfully dense."

Sam jumped when his friend grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged it upwards, baring him to the chest. Big-T placed his large hand over Sam's heart, feeling the racing beat. "I can feel your heart, Sam. It is strong, just like mine. Only my heart is wholly reserved for you. So can't you spare me yours?"

Blinking at the sudden tears in his eyes, Sam fought hard to pull himself together. This tricky situation was completely out of his league. He had never had anyone so extremely infatuated with him before. Even in the SRUs training manual, there were no guidelines on how to handle such situations.

_How do you tell a mentally-disturbed man who holds you captive that you are not feeling the same way he feels without hurting anyone, mostly yourself? How?_

"T…" Sam mumbled through his gag. "Please let me speak. You've got to let me speak."

Big-T didn't seem to hear, however. He rambled on like a man already losing his senses. "When I was sent to Darfur, I thought my whole world had come to an end. They had torn us from each other. I never saw you again. All I saw were deaths everywhere, in a land of civil war filled with genocide and starvation and disease as combats raged around me. A pure living hell."

Looking down at Sam, Big-T added. "It won't be so bad if you were there. But you weren't. I was alone. Terribly alone. Until one day, another rough-cut rock came into my life. His name was Brody."

Sam's eyes widened in surprise to hear this.

"Like I did with you, I showed him the ropes, I taught him everything. I thought I could make myself another diamond, a diamond just like you. But it was futile, a total lost cause." Big-T suddenly broke into sobs. "I pushed too hard, I expected too much. And Brody wasn't you. He would never be like you, Sam. Unlike you, Brody hardly ever listened to me. A damned belligerent kid. He was so stupid and reckless he got himself captured by the opposing guerrillas. I watched helplessly from two kilometers away as they doused him with gasoline and set him on fire. I watched him burned through my binoculars. The sniper I spotted failed to hit the mark, and so Brody died a long agonizing death."

Tears slipped down the corners of Sam's eyes as he heard the acute pain and guilt in Big-T's voice. Unfortunately, bound and gagged, he had no power to comfort the other man.

Seeing Sam's tears, Big-T shook his head and emitted a watery smile. "No, don't cry, Sam. It wasn't your fault. It was mine. I caused all this. If it wasn't for me, we would still be together."

Wiping Sam's face dry, he added, "Now we've reunited, and now you knew how I feel about you, maybe we can start where we left off. How about it, Sam? Would you like that? Wait, don't answer just yet. Let's sleep on it, okay?"

Leaving his chair, Big-T spread his length alongside Sam on the cot. He lay one massive arm across Sam's chest, and flung one heavy leg across the younger man's thighs, anchoring him down.

"Damn, I feel so tired. Sleep, Sam. We'll talk more tomorrow." The big man yawned. He then closed his eyes and immediately slipped into dream land.

Not Sam, though. For the next long hours, he just stared at the ceiling, willing himself not to hyperventilate. Never had he felt so helpless, so powerless. The new day couldn't arrive too soon. He wondered when his team would realize that he seriously needed their help.

He also wondered if they could get to him in time before he fall victim to his own friend's complete madness.

* * *

When Jules arrived at the Barn early the next day, she went straight for Sergeant Parker and blatantly said, "Boss, cancel the workout. We've got a problem."

Already perched on an exercise bike, Parker stopped paddling and stared hard at her. "Come again, Jules?"

Ed and Spike, who had just showed up, also gave her a curious look. "What's going on?"

"Sam never came home last night," Jules explained. "He didn't return my calls. And this morning, when I called again, I only got his voice mail."

"Maybe he slept at his friend's place," Spike suggested.

"He would have called and told me. He wouldn't make me worry like this," she argued. "Guys, something is wrong. I can feel it."

Parker stepped off the bike. "Okay, we'll try to locate him. But before we jump into any conclusions, we should give his friend a call and ask. Spike could be right. Maybe he slept over at his friend's place."

"If he did, I'm gonna nail him to the wall and skin him alive!" Jules grumbled, though she looked close to tears.

Ed tried hard not to smile as he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "What's the name of Sam's friend again? Tim something? Anybody has his number?"

"It's Tim McCarthy," said Spike, already retracing his steps towards the dispatch station. "Winnie, I need to borrow your computer."

"Sure, Spike," the dispatcher smiled in return and moved her chair a bit to give him easy access.

Leaning forward, Spike's fingers moved in a blur across the keyboard. Without dragging his eyes off the screen, he told Winnie, "You smell nice. What perfume are you wearing?"

She softly chuckled. "Escada Sentiment."

"Nice. Very nice." Seconds later, he found what he searched for. "Ah, here are his phone number and the address."

"Winnie, patch the call through," said Parker, picking up the phone receiver. They gathered around him, listening to the ringing tone. As it was only half past five in the morning, they didn't expect the call to be immediately answered. After waiting quite a while, the Sergeant was ready to hang up. But then a man's rough voice suddenly came into the line.

"Hello?"

"Mr. McCarthy?"

"Yes, who is this? Don't you know what time it is?"

"I'm sorry to bother you so early, sir," said Parker, keeping his tone mild and calm. "I'm Sergeant Parker from the Police Strategic Response Unit."

There was a stunned silence from the other end. "Police SRU? Is everything alright?"

"No need to be alarmed, sir. We just need your help with something."

"Oh, then…how can I help you?"

"A guy in my team, Sam Braddock, he went to visit you last night at your bar."

"Err…yeah, he did. What about it?"

"Is he still there?"

Another short silence. "Um…no. He…uhh...he left around…uhh…eleven."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positively sure. I locked the door behind him myself, and I glanced at my watch while doing so. Why? What's wrong?"

Parker frowned, and tried an angle. "Did you see how he left? Did he take a taxi, or did a woman pick him up in a car?"

"I'm sorry, Sergeant. I don't know. I didn't stay around to watch."

Nodding, Parker said, "Okay, sir. Thank you. Again, sorry to bother you."

"No problem, Sergeant."

After he hung up, Parker turned and thoughtfully looked at his team.

"What are you thinking, Greg?" Ed asked.

Parker emitted a lopsided smile. "Something's not quite right."

"Yeah, I can see the antennae poking out the top of your head. What's your instinct telling you?"

"Mr. McCarthy sounded a bit tentative, like he measured what to say and how to say it."

"You think he lied?" Jules asked.

"I can't be sure. But he answered my last question real smart. Or indeed he spoke the truth, that he really didn't know how Sam left."

Leah suddenly chose that moment to appear. "Why is everyone hanging around here? I thought we have workout?"

"Change of plans, Leah. Our shift starts now," Parker announced. Turning to Spike, he asked, "Can you trace Sam's phone?"

"Not if it's off, no."

"Fine. We shall gather info first. You all have five minutes to get into full gear. Then reconvene in the briefing room."

"You heard the boss. Let's go!" said Ed, already running towards the locker room.

Holding Jules back, Parker quietly told her, "We'll find him, Jules."

She nodded. "I'm sure we will."

* * *

Sitting on the side of the cot, Big-T glared at his phone. His head was terribly aching from the hangover, but he had to get over it and think fast. Sam's team was already looking for him.

_I need to hide him somewhere more secure._

Grim faced, he turned to gaze at Sam who was deeply asleep. The younger man was clearly in an uncomfortable position with each limb spread apart and immobilized, but he was blissfully unaware. Reaching over, the big man ran a hand through Sam's fine golden hair. "I've lost you once, Sam. I'm not losing you again."

Then he leaned down to kiss the taut plane of Sam's belly, brushing his lips against the exposed navel. Raising his head, he wickedly smiled at the sleeping young man, his eyes flashing with budding psychosis.

"And no one can stop me."

**TBC…**

* * *

**Next, the finale. Coming soon. Real soon...  
**

**Yep. Definitely next year. Hehehe...  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**And now, the finale...**

* * *

"Okay, how much do we know about this Tim McCarthy?" inquired Sergeant Parker after everyone had regrouped in the briefing room. Earlier, he had instructed Winnie to gather the man's military files, which could be classified and might take a while to process.

"Sam calls him Big-T," said Spike. "Seriously, guys. He's _big_. You gotta see him to believe it."

Parker turned to Jules. "Sam never mention about his friend to you before?"

"No. This is the first time I heard about Big-T." She shook her head. "From what Sam told me last night, I understand that the guy was a sort of big-brother figure for Sam when he was first deployed to Afghanistan."

"And then Big-T was suddenly transferred from the base. They never saw each other after that for close to ten years, until they met again yesterday." Spike stared at his laptop, reading the data. "Big-T's father died a month ago and left him the bar. The business has not been doing so well, especially when the elder McCarthy's health began to fail."

Ed was thoughtful. "So how can we be sure that Sam being missing has something to do with this guy? How can we confirm that?"

"We'll go and give Mr. McCarthy a visit," Parker said. "I need to see his face when we ask him about Sam's whereabouts. If he has something to hide, we will know."

Winnie suddenly appeared at the doorway. "Um…Sarge?"

"Yeah, Winnie? You've got the files?"

"Not exactly," she said, looking anxious about something. "But General Braddock is on the line."

Team One was understandably surprised, their eyes widening. Was this a mere coincidence?

"Sam's father?"

"Yes, Boss. He wants to speak with you."

"Okay. Put him through," said Parker and grabbed for the intercom placed in the middle of the table. Winnie ran back to her station and connected the call into the briefing room.

"General Braddock? This is Sergeant Parker," he began, turning on the speaker so that the rest of his team could hear.

"Good morning, Sergeant."

"Yes, good morning. How can I help you, General?"

"I've just been informed that your people is requesting for the files of one Tim McCarthy. Is that correct?"

"Yes, that's right.

"May I know why?"

Parker briefly shared a look with Ed. "Well, we have a situation here and Tim McCarthy is currently a person of interest."

There were several moments of silence at the other end until the General asked, "Is Sam there?"

For a long while, no one spoke. Parker leaned back in his seat and wearily shook his head. He had a bad feeling about this.

"Parker, is my son there?" Braddock senior asked again with an edge to his voice.

"No," the Sergeant finally admitted. "Sam has gone missing."

They all heard the General's loud intake of breath before he urgently instructed, "Tell me what happened."

"We just realized that Sam didn't come home last night, after he went out to see McCarthy."

"Sam _met_ McCarthy?" Braddock exclaimed in dismay. "Oh my god…"

Parker frowned at Braddock's clear distress. "General?"

"Are you sure Sam went out to see this man?"

"Yes, we are sure. That's what your son told Jules, that he was going to go have some drinks with his old friend he calls Big-T."

"How the hell…?" Braddock senior started to curse. "Parker, Sam is not supposed to be _any_where near around Big-T."

"Why? What's wrong with that? Big-T is his friend, right?"

"He is, but…" The General sighed. "You don't understand."

"Then make us understand, sir. That's why we asked for the files. We want to find out who this Tim McCarthy really is. We need to know what we're dealing with before we can take any actions."

"It's complicated."

"Then make it simple. Give us an overview so we can determine what we should do next."

"Alright, Sergeant," Sam's father agreed. "Look, McCarthy is a good soldier, basically a good man. But he has…certain issues."

"What issues?"

"He's deeply infatuated with my son."

That was totally unexpected, which caused the team to glance at one another in astonishment.

Parker remained unruffled, though. "Infatuated how?"

"How do you want me to say it, Sergeant? You're a smart man. I think you got the picture."

"Yeah, I think I do." Sighing, Parker nodded. "So how did it start exactly?"

For the next few minutes, Braddock quickly explained on how Big-T had been caught making untoward advances on an unconscious Sam one night at the base, and that after Matt had reported the whole incident to him, the General had expedited Big-T's transfer to Darfur.

"Big-T was not court martialed for that?" Ed interrupted to ask.

"It was a very delicate matter, Mr. Lane," Braddock senior replied, recognizing Ed's voice instantly. "If Big-T was court martialed, it would involve Sam too. We didn't want that. Sam went through a lot, especially after he had just recently shot dead a young kid in the streets of Kandahar. Besides, he was unaware about Big-T's true tendencies. So we decided to keep it that way, and separated them both permanently."

"Mr. Braddock?" Jules' voice trembled slightly.

"Yes, Jules?"

"That's a big awful secret you keep from Sam."

"Yes, indeed."

"Why didn't you ever tell him?"

"And cause him a lot of pain as he finds out that his friend has betrayed him in such a way? I have not the heart, Jules."

"So," Parker was saying, "Big-T cares a lot for Sam. He's mainly harmless."

There was a short uncomfortable silence from the General before he said, "Not exactly correct, Parker."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"McCarthy left the military over three months ago. He was discharged before his last tour officially ends."

"On what grounds? Was it due to misconducts?"

"For health reasons. McCarthy is not well."

"He is ill?" Spike wanted to know.

"Physically, he is healthy. But a year ago, he lost a member of his unit. Brody Gale. It was real tragic. He could only watch from afar as the opposing guerrillas burned Gale to death, unable to save him. McCarthy is not the same man ever since."

"So he suffers from PTSD?" asked Leah.

"He has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, an extreme one. At first it was mild, and he took some medications, mood stabilizers. Months afterwards, his manic state worsened. He has a series of elevated mood swings, he is aggressive and intrusive. His judgment is badly impaired. Due to that, his military career is terminally over, and he was discharged so that he can receive proper treatment at home. I understand that he has admitted himself into a psychiatric institution in Montreal. What I _don't _understand is why he's down there in Toronto?"

"His father just died and left him a bar here to run," Parker replied. "You didn't know?"

Braddock sighed. "I knew about his father, but I didn't expect that McCarthy would leave the institute before he's fully well. I was so sure he won't cross paths with Sam. Damn it, I should have seen this coming!"

"I understand, sir. Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault."

"No, Sergeant. You don't fully realize how serious this is. On the outside, McCarthy behaves like any other normal person but he is not stable, believe me. When the mood hits him, he breaks from reality and can be irritable to the point of rage. He is a great danger to Sam." The General then pleaded with pure desperation he had never shown before, "Please, Parker, you've got to find Sam fast. You have no idea what this man is capable of doing."

Holding the determined gazes of his team members, Parker nodded and made his promise, "We will, sir. We'll bring your son home, safe and sound."

* * *

The day was still dark when Big-T brought his van around from the front through an alley towards the back of the bar. He climbed out, slid open the side door before walking back inside. He hoped that Sam was still asleep. It would be a lot easier to transfer him without having him putting much of a fight. But if Sam had already awakened, Big-T would not hesitate to knock him out again. He would do whatever it takes so that they could be together once more.

Whatever it takes.

* * *

"Spike, Leah, cover the back. Boss and Jules, with me. We take the front," Ed spoke through the com link, pulling the SUV to the curb yards away from the bar's front door.

"Copy." Spike dove into the alley, driving fast but with full stealth towards the rear. He then noticed something very familiar. "Guys, Sam's car is still here."

"Anyone inside?"

"We're gonna find out."

As Ed took position at the door with Jules and the Sergeant, Leah suddenly announced, "Sam's car is empty. It's still locked and the engine is cold. It has been parked there awhile, most possibly overnight."

Ed grimly nodded. "Then he has never left. Big-T lied."

"There's a van at the back door with its side door open, engine still running."

"He's making his getaway," Parker remarked. "The subject is still inside."

"Team, get ready for entry. Everyone in position?" Ed asked for confirmation.

"Ready."

"Okay. On my mark…Go!"

They simultaneously burst inside, front and back. "Police! SRU! Show us your hands! Show us your hands!"

After a quick sweep, the ground floor was cleared of any hostiles. The main bar, the manager's office, the store room and even the lavatories were empty. Spike and Leah took a narrow stairway towards the upper level, but there was nothing there, only piles of old furniture and boxes filled with financial related files.

"Upstairs clear!" Spike announced, walking back down.

"Level ground clear," saying that, Ed headed next towards the back of the bar. He beckoned the others, using hand signals to get their attention on a door which could only lead to the basement.

"Get the door, Spike."

Spike gave the knob a twist. It turned easily. "It's not locked."

"Okay. Stay sharp, guys. This is the only place he's able to hide in," cautioned Parker, raising his gun. "Ed?"

"I'll take point. Spike, after me. Boss and Jules, prepare to negotiate. Leah, you stay here and cover our six."

"Copy."

The repeated the same routine, bursting in and hollering to get the subject's full attention and cooperation. The SRU officers cautiously rushed down the stairs into the basement, guns at the ready for any possibilities.

Tim McCarthy, aka Big-T, was already waiting for them. He stood next to a narrow cot, bending over Sam lying there. The tip of a ka-bar knife pressed hard against the jugular vein at Sam's neck.

"Mr. McCarthy?" Parker began with a reassuring smile. "I'm Sergeant Parker from the SRU. We talked earlier on the phone."

"Go away!" Big-T screamed. The knife jerked slightly in his trembling grip, nicking Sam's neck until it drew blood.

"Please, sir. Stay calm. We're not here to harm you. Let's talk, okay?" The Sergeant holstered his gun and raised his arms in a placating manner. "Can we talk?"

"There's nothing to talk about," yelled the subject, growing highly agitated. "Leave us alone!"

"We can't do that, sir. I'm sorry. But maybe if you listen to what I have to say—"

"No! I don't want to listen to you, to anyone, whoever it is. Just shut the fuck up!"

"_Boss_? He's escalating," Ed stated, his MP5 aiming straight at Big-T's head.

"Hold fire, Eddie," Parker softly replied. "No Scorpio just yet. The shot can cause muscle spasm. With the knife too close, we cannot risk it."

"Sam is already bleeding."

"I know."

It was extremely hard, but Team One toughened their resolves as they watched their teammate lay helpless under the power of a mad man. His wrists and ankles tied to each corner of the cot, Sam was rendered completely immobile. Duct tape covered his mouth, preventing him from speaking. His pants had been pulled low down his hips, his chest laid bare. Never had they seen Sam so vulnerable, so opened to hurt.

And Sam's eyes, as he stared back at them, they were filled with untold fear. But it was not fear for himself. It was fear for his friend, the mentally disturbed man who was actually holding a knife to his throat. Sam knew that if the situation turned to worse, if his life was instantly threatened, the team would have to call it. His friend would be shot dead.

"Sarge, let me take this," Jules said, stepping forward.

Parker looked at her closely. "You're sure, Jules?"

"Yeah. I can do this."

"Okay," he said, not wasting time to deliberate on it. "I'll cover you."

"Thanks, Boss. Ed?"

"Just stay behind me at all times," was the team leader's curt orders.

"Got it." Taking a deep breath, Jules placed her hands on Ed's waist before she focused her attention on the clearly agitated subject. "Hi, Big-T. That's what Sam calls you, right? Big-T?"

"Yeah. What is it to you?" the big guy snapped back.

"You're his friend. Sam's friend is mine too. I'm Jules."

"_Jules_?" Big-T's eyes widened. "You're Jules, the person that Sam said is so important to him?"

On the cot, Sam was frantically shaking his head, yelling denials against his gag. Cold fear was running down his spine as he watched Jules take another step closer. Sam knew her credibility as a negotiator, he fully believed that Ed was more than capable to keep her safe, but he couldn't help but feel terrified of seeing her getting hurt.

"I'm not the only important person in his life, Big-T," she kindly said. "You're important to him too."

"No." The man shook his head. "No, he doesn't think it that way. He doesn't love me. He hates me. I disgust him!"

"Big-T, look at me. Can you please look at me because I need to tell you something," Jules implored. "Last night, before he went out to see you, he looked incredibly happy. He told me that he missed you real bad. He just couldn't wait to see you again, to share drinks with you and talk about old times. He has only good words about you, Big-T. He respects you. You've saved his life. There is no hate or disgust in him for you. None at all."

"That's because he hadn't find out who I really am, what I've done to him!" The subject started to weep. "I betrayed him. He hates me, now that he knew."

"Then you don't really know him at all."

"I _do_ know him. I love him!"

"Really? Your love for him makes you do this? By hurting him, humiliating him and keeping him prisoner? This is what you call love?"

For a moment, Big-T hesitated. He blinked in confusion. Looking down at Sam, he quietly said, "I just want to make sure that we'll be together."

"If you continue with this, you will definitely be separated forever," Jules firmly said. "Don't do things that you'll later regret, Big-T. If you really do love him, you should let him go."

"Oh, so you can have him all to yourself?" he spat back.

"I know where I stand in Sam's life, but I'm not the only one who needs him. He has his family who cherished him, he has his team to support, and he has people in this town who need his protection. Let him go, and he can resume his friendship with you, so that he can get to know you all over again. Isn't that what you want? To continue where you've left off? Please, Big-T, put down the knife. You don't want to hurt him."

Tears were streaming down the subject's face as he wavered between decisions. "I…I really don't want to hurt him. I didn't mean this to happen."

Jules nodded, her gaze softening. "I know."

"I just want to keep him safe," Big-T sobbed. "I failed with Brody. I don't want Sam to die like him."

"He won't. Because you know what? We are here to protect him too, that's what we do. You've done a great job protecting him in the field, Big-T. It's our turn now. Release him. Let him go home."

Sniffling, the big man turned to Sam. For a long moment their gazes locked, the silence so thick. Everyone tensed. Ed prepared himself to take the shot when Big-T finally lifted the knife from Sam's throat. He then slowly straightened and stepped away from the cot. "I'm real sorry."

From his body language, Jules could interpret his next intention. "Big-T, drop the knife."

Shaking his head, the subject raised the blade and placed the sharp tip against his throat. "He never needs me. He's better off with me dead."

"_NO_!" Sam's scream was muffled by his gag, but they all could hear the desperation he tried to convey. Despite everything, he didn't want his friend to take his own life.

"Big-T, don't do it," Jules appealed, her voice breaking. "Killing yourself won't solve anything. Look, look at him! Sam cares for you, he still needs you. Don't do this to him, Big-T. You die, and you'll take a big part of him with you. He'll be left devastated. You actually want that for him? Do you?"

His eyes wild with distraught, Big-T then dropped the knife and broke into sobs. He stumbled against the wall and slid to the floor. "I don't know what I want. I don't know what I'm doing! God, I'm so confused. What have I done? What have I done…"

"Go, go," urged Sergeant Parker. Ed and Spike rushed forward to securely cuff the subject, who made no resistance at all as they dragged him up the stairs.

Jules was already at Sam's side, gently peeling the tape off his mouth. "Sam, it's over. You're okay."

Sam nodded, but he had suddenly lost his ability to speak. He closed his eyes and leaned back as Parker and Jules quickly cut the bonds off him. In a short time, he was freed.

"Help me up," Sam croaked, and weakly raised one arm. Parker grabbed it and pulled the younger man upright. Throwing his legs over the side, Sam sat hunch on the edge of the cot, trembling hard due to overwhelming emotions.

"C…can I…use your phone, J…Jules?" Sam asked, his voice breaking in several places.

She nodded and passed him her cellphone. Dialing from memory, Sam then waited for the call to be picked up. "Hey, Dad. Yeah, they've found me. Yes, sir, I'm okay. He has been taken into custody."

Sam blinked rapidly as tears swam in his eyes. "Dad, why…why didn't you ever tell me?"

Listening to his father's voice, Sam's face crumpled. Without saying another word, he disconnected, returned the phone to Jules and buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking from his sobs. Already in tears herself, Jules wrapped her arms around Sam and gathered him close. Sergeant Parker decided to give them both some privacy. After patting Sam in the back, he turned and went up the stairs.

When Sam finally calmed down a long while afterwards, he raised his head and wiped his face dry. He gazed lovingly at Jules, his smile wan. "Thank you. For the words."

"They are the truth." She smiled back. "Ready to leave?"

Sam nodded and gingerly stood on shaky legs. As he looked down at his feet, he realized that his jeans were in danger to fall off. His face burned in mortification and he hastily grabbed his jeans with unsteady hands.

"Here, let me help."

Tenderly, Jules stroked the bullet scar on his hip before she grabbed hold of the waistband of his underwear and oh so gently slid it up his rump. Placing his hands on her waist, Sam stood still as she zipped up his jeans and snapped on the button. Looking into his eyes, she straightened down his shirt and placed her hand over his heart. They both stayed that way for a full minute. No words were needed. Mere touches and gazes were enough for them to convey their feelings for each other.

They emerged into the streets shortly afterwards. By that time, the sky had lightened to give way to a beautiful summer morning. Several patrol cars and an ambulance had already arrived at the scene.

Sam caught sight of Big-T sitting forlornly in the back of a patrol car, being watched over by Parker and a pair of unis. Burrowing deeper into his jacket, the one he had just retrieved from the coat rack behind the door, he went to talk to his friend.

"Give them a moment," said Sergeant Parker, ushering the unis away as Sam came closer. Hovering close by, Ed stayed where he was, ready for any circumstances.

"T," Sam began, standing at the window, "You're still my friend, always will be. No matter what."

Blinking back tears, Big-T raised his head and gave Sam a sad smile. "I'm sorry, Sam. For everything."

"So am I." Sam stepped back.

At Parker's signal, the unis got into the patrol car and drove away. Sam watched it go carrying his friend until it disappeared around the corner. Someone squeezed his shoulder and he slowly spun around. His entire team was standing behind him, showing him their support. Sam was so touched he thought he would break down and blubber like a baby again.

Clearing his throat, he said, "Thank you. I'm real grateful that…um…"

Sam shook his head, unable to continue.

"No thanks are necessary," said Ed. "You're one of us. We protect our own."

"Right." Sam agreed and turned to go.

"Where are you going, Sam?"

Sam briefly hesitated when he heard the concern in Sergeant Parker's voice. "I'm gonna walk."

They all looked alarmed at this, and so Sam repeated reassuringly, "I'm okay. I just want to walk. I need this."

"We understand. Go ahead, Sam."

Shoving his fists into the pockets of his jeans, Sam walked away as his team looked on.

Jules gave Ed a pleading gaze. The team leader nodded. "I got it."

Hurriedly, Ed went and got into the truck. He then followed his teammate down the street at crawling speed, keeping a careful distance. If Sam knew he was being followed, he didn't give any indications. He just kept on walking with his head bowed and shoulders drooped, trying to come to terms with everything that just happened. Ed knew how vulnerable Sam's condition still was, and so he did what he do best—covering his mate's back.

Sam continued to walk for over five blocks when he finally stopped. He waited until Ed's truck reached alongside him before he pulled open the passenger door and climbed in.

* * *

"Hey, Ed, Sarge. Good morning, guys," Sam greeted them the next day when he entered the locker room.

Already in uniform, the two SRU officers looked at him in surprise. "Sam? We thought you're gonna take a day off today."

Sam chuckled and unlocked his locker. "I changed my mind."

"How are you feeling, really?" Parker asked, looking at him closely.

With an easy shrug, Sam replied, "I've been better, but I'm not getting worse. Besides, I had good enough rest yesterday and last night. Seriously, I'm fine."

"How's your head? Did you get it checked out like I told you to?" Ed wanted to know.

"Yes, I did. It's just a mild concussion, nothing serious."

Parker scoffed. "A concussion, and he said it's nothing serious. Sam, you should take better care of yourself."

"Gee, Sarge. You sound just like my mother." Sam rolled his eyes.

Ed broke into laughter. "See? I told you, Boss. Sometimes you nag too much. Just like an old woman!"

"Well, I _am_ old. So what can I do if my feminine side decides to pop up once in a while?" Parker protested, grinning despite himself. As their laughter died down, he turned back to Sam, "I heard that they sent Big-T back to the psychiatric institute in Montreal."

"Yeah, it's the General's doing. He arranged everything."

"You refuse to press any charges."

Sam shook his head. "Big-T is not a criminal. He's a military hero. A good man. He's just…not well. He needs help, not punishment."

"We hear you." Ed nodded. "So, will you go and see him sometimes?"

"I will. But I had to fight tooth and nail with my Dad until he agreed to lift the ban on visitation rights he put on me. If you ask him, he doesn't want me to go anywhere near Big-T especially after what happened yesterday. But T is my friend. I will not abandon him."

"You're very loyal, Samo," Ed commented.

"Well, I have you guys as good role models," said Sam, chuckling. "Follow the leader, that's what they said."

Spike chose that moment to appear. "Hey, Samtastic! I knew you're gonna come in today."

"Hi, Spike." Sam grinned as they bumped fists. He frowned at the small icebox that his mate was carrying. "What is that?"

"This is what people call an icebox," was Spike's glib reply.

Sam felt like smacking him upside the head. "I know what it _is_. But what's in there?"

"Ah-ha! I brought this especially for you, buddy," Spike announced, yanking the lid open to show them a bunch of ice-creams nestled inside.

"Magnums!" Sam grinned with pleasure. He was reaching for one when Spike suddenly shut the lid, almost snapping his fingers. "Hey! What the hell?"

"Nothing is free, my friend."

"What, you are _selling_ those?" Sam was incredulous.

"All I want is an exchange."

"Exchange how?"

"Your bullet scar."

"Excuse me? What?"

"The bullet scar on your ass."

"It's not on my ass. It's on—"

"Yeah, yeah. On your hip. Same difference."

"Spike."

"Can I see it?"

Sam blinked. And blinked again. "_No_!"

"Oh, well. Too bad." Shrugging, Spike gathered the icebox and quickly walked off. "I'll go see if the girls want some free Magnums."

"Son of a…." Sputtering, Sam went to chase after him. "Damn it, Spike! Give me back my ice-creams!"

Parker and Ed exchanged amused glances, hardly able to control their laughter.

"Yep. He'll be alright."

* * *

Sam shut close his locker door as he prepared to head for home that evening. Jules was already waiting outside with Leah. He could hear the two ladies laughing about something.

_Still praising Spike to high havens about his generosity with the free ice-creams, I bet_, Sam thought with a roll of his eyes.

His gym bag slung over one shoulder, Sam strode for the doorway but pulled to a stop in front of Spike's locker. The tech genius was nowhere to be seen. Sam didn't think his friend had already left because his duffel bag was still there on the bench. A book Spike was currently reading, Erik Larson's "_In the Garden of Beasts_", sat on top of the whole bundle. Maybe Spike was in the washroom, taking a leak.

A mischievous smile slowly bloomed on Sam's face when a plan brewed in his head. He went to grab a black marker from the notice board across the room and got to work.

Minutes later, he went out carrying the book under one arm.

"Ready to go?" he asked Jules.

"Sure. What took you so long in there?"

"I…uh…I had to take care of something," Sam replied, grinning. He paused at the dispatch station on their way out. "Hey, Winnie. Pulling extra shift tonight?"

"Nah, I'm just covering for Pete until he arrives. His car broke down."

"Oh. Um, listen. I found this book. I think it belongs to Spike. Can you pass it to him when you see him?" Sam gave her the book.

"No problem. I'll make sure he receives this."

"A word of advice. Don't read it."

Winnie gave him a funny look. "Why would I want to read it anyway? It's not even my favorite genre."

"I know. What I mean is, there's something in there you're not supposed to see."

This piqued her curiosity, obviously. "What do you mean? Sam?"

"Just don't look, okay?" was Sam's evasive reply as he linked his arm with Jules', leading the way out.

Jules gave him an inquisitive look. "What was that all about?"

"Ah, it's nothing. Just a little sweet revenge."

Inside the locker room, Spike was scratching his head.

_Where the hell is it?_

He rechecked his locker and looked under the bench, but still found no sign of the book. Afraid that he had gone senile at such a young age, and forgetting where he was putting things, Spike gathered his duffle bag with a grumble and headed out. As he walked past, Winnie called him over.

"Spike!"

"Hey, Winnie. What's up?" He approached her station with a big goofy grin on his face.

"Sam found your book," she responded, looking slightly disconcerted as she passed it to him.

"_Sam_ found this? Where?"

"He didn't say. But, Spike…um…"

He raised one eyebrow. "Is something wrong?"

"The book."

"What's wrong with the book? It's a good book, good writer."

"No, what I mean is…" She bit her lower lip. "Why don't you check the first few pages."

Frowning, Spike did just that. And nearly swallowed his tongue.

He was looking at the blank page behind the title sheet. Only it wasn't blank anymore. Written there in Sam's almost childlike penmanship were the words;

**_Spike __LOVES_ _Winnie. XOXO._**

Spike's mouth opened and closed repeatedly, like a fish. Turning so red he looked almost purple, he screwed his face and hollered to the ceiling, "_SAAAAAAAAM_!"

But the guilty perpetrator had already fled the building.

**THE END**

* * *

**Okay, done already. I hope you all enjoy that. If not, then go and watch the Flashpoint series on TV. The final season looks extremely awesome!  
**

**Just to let you all know, you're not gonna see me around for the next few weeks. This period of the year is when our department sends the staffs to do audit inspection to all branches. I'm now actually sitting in the airport, waiting for my flight to Singapore. Next, I would be flying to Colombo, Jakarta, Bangkok and fly back to Kuala Lumpur in early November. To tell you the truth, I hate flying. Takeoff is so nerve wrecking it makes me sick! Oh, and why the hell did I watch the Air Crash Investigation documentary on Youtube last night? Hell-lo! Stupid much?  
**

**Anyway, thank you for reading my fic. I know it's not perfect, but I hope it manage to make you all smile. ;)  
**

**See you when I see you!  
**

**Adromir is now walking down the gangplank. Dun...dun...dun..  
**


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